The Snake Pit
by orangepenguin
Summary: A fifteen year old Severus Snape attempts to survive adolescence and the complicated politics of Slytherin, not to mention his involvement with members of the House of Black, through caustic observations and cold detachment.
1. Chapter 1

**The Snake Pit**

**By orangepenguin**

**Summary: A fifteen-year-old Severus Snape attempts to survive adolescence and the complicated politics of Slytherin, not to mention his involvement with members of the House of Black, through caustic observations and cold detachment.**

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own anything related to the Harry Potter franchise.**

**Chapter One**

**Prologue**

_Even years later, the word I most associate with the Bellatrix I knew in school is "joy". Perhaps it is an odd choice, but it holds true nonetheless. After all, joy is not a passive emotion. A person may merely be filled with happiness, but one must be _consumed _by joy. She was joyous, in her passions. She was passionate about everything. Bellatrix lived in a world of black and white, and was enchanted by darkness. Even when she murdered that wretched cousin of hers, she was maniacally smiling. _

_When we were in school, she was not yet insane. Occasionally, yes, madness would take her—but for the most part, although she was volatile, competitive, in love, she was still sane. Rodolphus did not bring on the madness. That credit belongs to the Dark Lord and Azkaban, a combination that has brought down some of the most brilliant wizards of my generation._

_It may seem as though I am fixated on Bellatrix, but back in the school days she was not the Black sister who most captivated me. That honor belonged to her older sister, Andromeda. I'd always thought that if I had only been born two years earlier we would have gone well together. Maybe things would have turned out differently for me if I had been influenced by the light seeker of the family, rather than the chaser of shadows._

_Perhaps it is to my misfortune that I spend such a portion of my formative years in the company of Bellatrix Black. Perhaps it is my greater misfortune that I ever involved myself in that twisted family at all. _

**Hogwarts**

There she sits: Andromeda—Andy, I've heard some of her friends call her. I'm sitting here in the common room, seemingly absorbed by a History of Magic textbook, but truly watching her. It is not unusual: among Slytherins, one is rarely so bold as to be what they seem.

In an ornate armchair by the fire, her eyes are bright, though most people around her are beginning to tire. Since I first met her, at a party thrown by her parents years ago, I've wondered how she happened. What happy or hellish sequence of events could have created her oxymoronical existence?

In the world of Slytherin shadows, she favors the light. In even our muted common room, she dares to laugh out loud. She can make shy sullen Severus Snape wax poetic. Truly, wonders will never cease.

I suppose this fixation is what others students my age call a crush—it's strange, because I am always interested in people, many different people, but never to this frightening degree. It is also strange, because I have never seemed to share any connection with people my own age. I know that part of the intrigue stems from my having all of her family, an entire lineage of Blacks, to compare her with.

In my own year is her sister, Bellatrix. I suppose you could call us friends, but it would be misleading. Friendship, at least how I understand the term, implies pleasure in shared company. Pleasure we are lacking, but for our mutual gain we remain close.

I am under her protection, I suppose. She keeps the powers that be—Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy and such, from questioning my heritage. It is true, my mother is a muggleborn, a mudblood, and thus, so am I. The Black family is so pure as to be above question, and thus I am protected by Bellatrix's presumably good judgment. In me, she finds an intelligent study partner, I suppose. A diligent student who sees things that others do not.

For example, the tensions that have been growing within the Black family, even possibly the sisters themselves, over their bastard of a cousin, Sirius. Five years ago he mildly disgraced their entire family by being the first ever to be sorted into Gryffindor.

In the beginning, it seemed like a joke. Sirius Black, our pureblood childhood companion, albeit rarely for me the halfblood, but still…A person who I had been aware of, attended events with, for my entire life—could be called a lion. It even seemed like a trick, as if the snakes were rising from the dungeons and infiltrating the highest tower, the lion's den itself.

But then, it seemed like he was changing, in small but alarming ways. To most, it quickly became clear that he was becoming a blood traitor, and the issue should have been dismissed. He should have become a forgotten person, ignored by all Slytherin. He could have joined the ranks of the liberal purebloods, like that damned Potter, with only minor scandal and a few sighs for the wasted heir potential.

But such a clean separation was not to be, all because of the sisters Black: Andromeda and Bellatrix specifically—I've never heard the little blonde one, Narcissa, voice an opinion about anything more important than the cooking ability of the Hogwarts house elves.

I think that Bellatrix has always loved Sirius. They used to be of one mind on many things, and shared the same patterns of flaming anger, over compensated affection, and a perverted, dark, sense of humor in general.

As for Andromeda, she too loves Sirius. In fact, over the years she has said a few surprising, even blasphemous, things about agreeing with his new ideas. I've heard her say, for all to hear that the family being whole is more important than it being pure. This is confusing to me, for it I feel both admiration and contempt. To say such things is to compromise, which snakes never do, unless it's in their favor. How could the alienation of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black possibly in her favor?

Well, enough of such musings. I could stare at her all night, but it's getting late, and now it's time for sleep.

**A/N: This was pretty much just character development and setting the situation. Next chapter the story really starts: Severus overhears something he shouldn't, and some lovely teenage awkwardness ensues. **


	2. Chapter 2

**The Snake Pit, by orangepenguin**

**Chapter Two**

I wake from a dream sharply, with an intense thirst. It must still be early, yes, my watch indicates just past midnight. I stand up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, head for the water jug, careful not to wake my classmates. I dip my cup in it, only to realize it's empty. Of course, it always seems that when I need water, the jug will be dry.

Sighing, I decide to go down to the common room. Surely the large jug there will have something wet in it—although in the Slytherin common room, you can never be sure exactly what. Try as I might, I can't recall the dream that woke me. Like most of mine, it was dark and full of pain, always some type of pain, but I can't remember what made me so urgently needing liquid.

As I descend the stone steps, always slippery with moss and beaded slime, I am surprised to hear voices in the common room, and even more taken aback to hear them raised in anger. Most Slytherins retire early, to be best prepared for the coming day. If they stay alert for more questionable activities, those do not occur in the heart of the snake pit itself.

Being a snake, true to form, I lurk in the shadows behind a statue of Salazar Slytherin's grandson. Slowly, I come to realize that the voices are those of Bellatrix and Andromeda. Carefully, I peer around the statue and into the room. Andromeda is seated firmly on the plush green velvet sofa, looking resolute.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, is angrily pacing in front of the fire. Typically, Narcissa is perched nervously on a nearby chair, saying nothing. I must watch, just for a moment. Bellatrix, clenching her jaw, says to Andromeda, who is a lovely golden brown in the firelight, "It's one thing to be sympathetic, but to side with him, against me, in public? Andy, I'm your sister."

Andromeda shakes her head, light brown hair quivering, and says, "That does not mean you're always right. Remus Lupin may be muggleborn, but he's a good student, and seems like a good influence on Sirius. You were out of line to even mention it, much less insult him and forbid them to associate."

"Since when do you use the term muggleborn when referring to filthy mudbloods?" Bellatrix spits out.

"Since I realized that it is not a _term_, sister, but a description of a state that _cannot be helped. _And I don't think that you are at liberty to talk about anyone having halfblood friends, Bella."

I sharply intake a breath, this is about me, I know it. How many halfbloods are there in Slytherin who would dare even speak to someone as pure and forbidding as Bellatrix?

"Well played, sister. But you will not disagree with me in the corridors again." It was alarming how imposing a small, dark, fifteen year old girl could make herself, but Andromeda just shakes her head.

"I won't, if you stop saying things that I disagree with in the corridors."

Bellatrix's eyes widen, "I know what this is about. It's that boy that you're always studying with, that Ted whatever."

Andromeda's cheeks redden, and my heart drops, "I love you, Bella, but that is none of your concern. Do not push me too far."

Bellatrix sneers, "You wouldn't hurt your own sister." I notice Narcissa trembling in the chair, looking so small, and realize that I am eavesdropping in on a conversation that could very well mean my life if discovered. Silently, I steal back upstairs, putting my thirst aside for a moment. So, I was correct in thinking there is dissention among the sisters, although I would never have guessed there is so much, and so much anger as well--in public they always seem like an impenetrable united front.

I have such mixed and confused feelings about what I just heard, that I don't know what to do with myself. It seemed as though Andromeda fell on the muggleborn side, my side, I remind myself, and start to smile. But then I realize that it is not only my side, it is also the side of that Ravenclaw seventh year, Ted Tonks. This makes me sink to my bed in disappointment, sleep failing me.

After an hour or so has passed, my thirst has grown exponentially and I decide to risk going back down to the common room. This time, luck seems to be on my side. I can't hear any voices, and the only light I see is the low glow of the fireplace embers. Quickly, I move toward the water jug. I've already taken my first sip, when I hear a noise behind me like an animal whimpering. I spin around to see Narcissa, the youngest Black sister, crumpled up in an armchair, quietly sobbing.

I freeze, perhaps she hasn't seen me and I can slip away from this scene, which is obviously not intended for an audience, at least, not for me, the skulking Slytherin halfblood. But no, in my split second of indecision, she looks up, and I am trapped.

I hate this sort of situation—if I was in her position I would be mortified, and I don't think anything would make me feel better, but I have to try and do something. This did not seem to be anything like the dramatically staged breakdowns that some Slytherin girls practiced often, if they felt the limelight leave their empty heads for a moment. Narcissa just sits there, face red, eyes streaming, long white-blonde hair disordered. She just sits and looks at me, waiting, I suppose, to see what I will do.

I take a tentative step forward, and she tilts her head to the side, still not speaking. "It's late," I say awkwardly.

She shakes her head, not in agreement or dissent, but rather as if she has just noticed me, and is acknowledging my presence, like a queen spying one of her lesser subjects somewhere she didn't expect them to be. "I hate it when they fight," she says simply, and it seems as though I've been accepted into the court, at least for now. Of course I know who she means. I slowly move to kneel by her side as she continues.

"They do it more and more often these days, where more and more people can see. When we were little, they never argued about anything, the three of us were like one big person." She chokes back a sob. "I just want everything to go back the way it was, for someone to be my big sister. To protect me."

Wonderful, a heartfelt confession. I have no idea what I should do, but I'll do anything to stop her from crying. I hate to see girls cry, it always reminds me of my mother, when I was young and she thought I wasn't paying attention. After a second, I put an arm around her shoulders, waiting for her to recoil, but she does not, just sniffs loudly.

I begin to relax, this could be worse. But then I hear a familiar drawl from behind me that makes my blood run cold. "Well, isn't this an unexpected sight?" I jump up and spin around, stepping quickly away from Narcissa. She looks mildly surprised, but not particularly perturbed. Why should she? She's pureblood and secure, there's nothing for her to fear.

I watch the icy Seventh Year, Lucius Malfoy, approach, along with his dark haired counterpart, Rodolphus Lestrange, and try to hide the terror that I know is growing behind my eyes.

Malfoy speaks again, "Perhaps you'd better return to your dorm room, Snape. We can assist Miss Black." I notice her body stiffen next to me, and I wonder what prompted it, though I have worse problems to deal with at the moment.

I nod, desperately wishing to leave. As I walk past, Rodolphus grabs my forearm so sharply that it is as if his fingers are clasped around bone itself. "We will speak to you tomorrow, Snape; this is not the end." When he releases me, I am ashamed to say that I scrambled up the stairs without looking back.

The last thing I heard, just before I entered my dorm room, was low rumbling laughter coming from the room below. My arms tingled in disgust and apprehension.

**A/N: Glad everyone's reading this dark little story. Review and let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Snake Pit**

**by orangepenguin**

**A/N: So many hits! I'm proud. This is the third part, of four, I think. Much love to my reviewers.**

This morning I wake up, remembering last night. Oh, I screwed up, badly. I should have never approached that Narcissa. I should have never entangled myself with the Blacks…it could only bring the wrath of Malfoy and Lestrange down on me. I should have seen this coming. With a great forbidding dread settling on my heart, I get dressed and head down to the common room. Maybe they will have already gone to breakfast. If I can just get out of the dungeons safely…

No such luck. There they are, like maniacal bookends, flanking the fireplace, waiting on me. I come down the stairs slowly, determined to hold my head high. Everyone else is already at breakfast, I must have overslept. They are light and dark, opposite sides of the same cruel coin, and they have wanted to put me in my place for years.

I am so tempted to just run from the room, but I think better of it. Perhaps if I come willingly to my punishment, it will be less severe.

Malfoy smirks as I come to stand in front of them. "How good of you to meet us like this, Snape. My, even before going to get breakfast."

Lestrange's eyes light up. "It has come to our attention that over your time at Hogwarts, you have taken certain liberties with your class, and place within Slytherin House."

"Of course," continues Malfoy, "we hesitated in correcting you, because of the interests of some…involved parties. But when we see a breach in conduct so severe, we feel it is our job as…" he looked at Lestrange, who smoothly jumped in.

"As patriarchs of the house, if you will, to make sure such a breach does not happen again." He smiled, cruelly, and I steeled myself. "You are supposed to be cunning, greasy halfblood. You should know better. You will _never_," with that word, he drew his wand, "lay a hand on a Black sister _ever_," with that word I felt an intense pain on my right upper arm. I tried not to reach for it, "again."

Malfoy too stood, "Furthermore, you will remember your _place_," with that, my left upper arm also began to burn and sting. I could not keep the pain from my expression, "and you will _keep to it_." With those last words, and a flick of his wand, both of my new injuries begin to burn as though someone poured lemon juice onto them.

The two now walk off, smiling slightly, and leaving me to tend to my wounds. This is what I deserve, for forgetting, for thinking that in Slytherin you can ever follow your instincts without using your intellect. I should have been smarter. I lift up my robe's sleeve and gasp, seeing the deep red cuts, three on each side, slashing across my arm, makes them all the more painful. Sighing, I give up on breakfast, and go back up to the dorm room to look through my potions ingredients for something that will help.

After applying a quickly mixed no heat potion (containing mostly essence of myrtlap) to the vicious cuts on my arms, I realize that I will soon be late for my first class. Cringing, I gently let the sleeves of my robe fall down, and feel the stinging pain of contact, slightly less intense than earlier, but still deeply distracting.

At least my morning class is Potions. I don't even really have to concentrate in that class, most of the time. For me it has become like an academic exercise, attempting to be better than the textbook, and writing corrections in. Potions is a useful magic, deeply useful in everyday life, unlike Transfiguration or Astronomy, and I think that is why I am so drawn to it.

At any rate, I soon find myself seated at a worktable with none other than my usual partner, Bellatrix. This is bad. But there is no way to distance myself from her now without making her suspicious. I don't want anyone to know about what happened this morning. If anyone finds out, then I know I will face much more at the hands of Mssrs. Malfoy and Lestrange. But then, if Bellatrix thinks I am snubbing her, I will face pain at her hands…not something I have ever wished to incur.

I must just continue as if nothing had happened. Professor Slughorn is going on about how this potion will be judged on the OWL standard, and will probably give us an accurate idea of how we will do this spring on the Potions practical. I barely register this: I will get an Outstanding on my potions practical whether I make this particular draught or not. But I feel Bellatrix beside me perk up, and I resist the urge to ask her what she's planning.

As the lesson progresses, I become more involved in the potion making, and all my pain seems to subside. I truly love the intention, deliberation, everything that goes into it. This is my element.

Then, just as Slughorn calls five minutes, everything comes to a screeching halt, as I realize what Bellatrix has been planning. Sirius Black, who is sitting at a table diagonally in front of us, just leaned over to talk to that Potter, and now we are all coughing as his cauldron is emitting great puffs of an acrid smoke, and all hell is breaking loose.

"Calm down, calm down!" Slughorn calls out, his robes pulled over his face. The cauldron stops puffing smoke, and it seems as though everything is fine, there is a moment of absolute silence, before the potion explodes and Sirius is covered in green goo.

Bellatrix, beside me, has a perfectly clear face, not even the slightest hint of amusement is to be found. This convinces me, she threw something in there. I watch as Slughorn rounds in on Sirius.

"What did you _do_?"

Black's face in dark and angry. "I didn't do anything at all, _someone _threw something into my cauldron." His head whipped around to our table, and I knew instantly, what I would do, no matter what it might cost me later.

Black continued, "And I know exactly—"

I cut him off, "I did it, sir."

The room went silent. Slughorn, Sirius, and Bellatrix were all staring at me in utter astonishment.

"What?" Sirius asked blanking, looking as though he'd never seen me before. Slightly ironic, since I remember him hexing me just last week. Still, he knew that I wouldn't sabotage his potion. Firstly, I had more subtlety, and secondly, if I'd actually done it, I would have never admitted it in front of the whole class.

Slughorn turns to me. "Detention, Mr. Snape. My office at seven tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"Black, go clean yourself up."

"Yes, sir."

He leaves the room, still looking at me in a puzzled way. As soon as Slughorn turns away, and starts rambling about ill effects of mixing opposite ingredients, Bellatrix leans over and hisses in my ear, "Why the hell did you do that?"

I shrug, flinching away from her grip on my upper arm, of course, she has no idea how very painful a grip she is inflicting, and thus pulls me closer, holding tighter. I clench my jaw in pain.

"That was completely unnecessary. Sirius knows that I did it, and so does Slughorn, probably. Do you think I care about detention? I don't need a hero, Severus."

I am mildly surprised by the acidity of her tone, but I know that she hates the idea of asking for help. I manage to get out, regardless of my aching arm, "I'm not a Gryffindor, Bellatrix."

"Then why did you do that?" She asks intensely.

"Maybe I want you to owe me a favor."

**A/N: Ooh…intrigue. The rather fascinating conclusion is up next, and then on to examining Hufflepuff, I believe. Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Snake Pit**

**by orangepenguin**

**A/N: Yes! Over 200 hits! Only five reviews, but eh, what can you do? I really appreciate those kind people who took two minutes out of their lives. Here it is, the final chapter in this little drama. **

Tonight I hasten to eat dinner, by far preferring a detention with Slughorn to a cross examination by the leaders of my own house. I don't know why, exactly, I took the blame for Bellatrix. It just seemed, in the moment, the right thing to do. Probably I should have just stayed out of the situation entirely, but then again, it can never hurt to have someone be indebted to you, even for something as small as a detention.

Bellatrix is not at the table, she usually eats later and lingers over her food. She enjoys dinner, a time when the House hierarchy becomes apparent, and she can benevolently, or sometimes malevolently, reign.

I sometimes wonder how outsiders perceive our house. We are a tight knit group, guarded from intruders, but our loyalty is to our families and, of course, the Slytherin name. We do not care for each other, generally. There are exceptions, I will allow, but most are of the eyebrow raising variety. For example, the sounds I hear coming from the seventh year boys dormitory, and Bellatrix's strange deep connection to Rodolphus Lestrange, a connection that goes deeper than lust, or even love.

I think that even our own Head, Slughorn, would be distressed to hear of a certain Lucius Malfoy's interest in the petite blonde Black sister, six years his junior.

But after last night, I am thinking that Lucius may be just what Narcissa needs. He would certainly protect her from outside harm…although feeling my still throbbing upper arms, I suspect he would not be above inflicting some harm of his own. This line of thinking is making me slightly ill, so I drain the last of my pumpkin juice, and retreat, heading for the dungeons.

On the way, I must pass by the Gryffindor table, and unfortunately Black, Potter, and their cronies are seated right at the end that I will walk by. As I pass, head high, attempting to ignore their presence, and not bring any attention to my own. But it is useless. I feel a hand catch my robes, and I turn, sighing deeply, steeling myself.

Black looks up at me, perplexed. "I don't understand you, Snape."

I try my best to affect a sneer. "Well that isn't a surprise. It seems as though there is much you don't understand."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Potter reach for his wand, and Lupin grab his hand. How charming. Black holds fast onto my robes. "Why would you protect Bella? I didn't know there was any loyalty among snakes."

"Why do you care?" I ask him. "Surely you don't mind my getting detention."

He stares at me as though trying to read my mind. I look away, and he half laughs. "A word of advice, Snape. Don't get involved with my dear old family, some darkness is better left unexplored."

I am taken aback. "I didn't know you could be so eloquent." I give a mocking bow. "May I go now?"

He looks down at the hand still holding my robes, and releases them as if they were covered in filth. "Go. I wouldn't want to keep you from your detention."

I turn and go, but behind me, I hear Potter ask, "Sirius, why do you care so much?"

"I don't know. It's just so weird…it's like something that we would do for each other…and I didn't think that Bella would let anyone get that close."

I smile slightly to myself, in satisfaction. At least I have thoroughly mystified Sirius Black…that in itself justifies this detention. I'm sure he is now imagining all sorts of ridiculous scenarios, romantic trysts, blood debts…And if I know Black at all, he won't keep his ideas to himself. Perhaps I will gain more than I could have even expected.

When I arrive in Slughorn's office, a few minutes early, he has already laid out the ingredients for a particularly difficult potion, and has a cauldron warming over a small blue flame. I smile in anticipation, and he gestures at the setup. "I thought that tonight we could test out your skills a little more strenuously than the rest of your classmates are ready for. A Draught of Dreams, it will allow the drinker to dream of whatever they most desire, highly realistically, for an entire night. Very temperamental to make…let's see how you do."

I pushed up my sleeves and set to work. A couple of feet away, Slughorn sat at his desk seeming to grade an essay. However, I had a sneaking suspicion that he was watching me closely instead. Surely enough, after about twenty minutes, while I was chopping up salamander veins, he asked me, offhandedly, "Severus, what is it that you are planning to do after school?"

Feigning ignorance, I asked, "What do you mean, sir? This summer, I'll be going home…"

"No, no. I mean, what are you ambitions, boy?" He rises slightly from his chair, leaning towards me. "What do you want to do in life?"

"I'm not sure, sir," I say slowly, trying desperately to think of something plausible. "Probably something simple, with Potions, most likely, working in an apothecary or something." I am rarely this inarticulate, but I don't know what he wants me to say.

He frowns. "But Severus, you have real talents. Surely you don't want to spend the rest of your life working in a shop."

Does he want me to say I plan on being Minister of Magic? Or was he expecting something much darker, something along the lines of Lestrange or Malfoy? Surely he credits me with more subtlety than to admit to that.

"You know, Snape, blood counts for much in this world, but talent, and effort counts as well. You should not ever limit yourself, you have strong abilities. I mean, look at that Lily Evans, she's muggleborn, and almost as good at Potions as you are." I bristled slightly, this may have been true, but he was less clever than I thought to bring it up to a fellow Slytherin, what with all the things happening lately.

"Perhaps I have not yet decided where I want my talents to take me," I say diplomatically. But at this point, Slughorn's head snaps up: there is a knock at his office door.

"Yes, come in," Slughorn says. The door opens, and it is Bellatrix. I'm sure she has been there for some time, listening.

She smiles in a way that I'm sure she believes is sweet and innocent, but I find slightly chilling. "There's been somewhat of a disturbance in the Common Room," she says. "I'm afraid Nott had to go to the Hospital Wing."

"Oh, dear. I better go sort this out. Severus, stay here and finish that Potion, when you're done, bottle some and leave it on my desk….Oh, dear…" he muttered to himself as he left the room, distracted.

Bellatrix rounded on me, and I raised my eyebrows. "What did you do to Nott?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." She casually picks up the knife I had been using, and plays with it, flipping it through her fingers, back and forth. Bellatrix was queen of the intimidation tactic. "I heard your conversation with Slughorn. I don't believe for an instant that you don't have ambitions. I want to know what there are, and what they have to do with me." She stops and smiles. "I like to have knowledge of the people with whom I am connected."

"It's just a detention, Bellatrix."

"What do you want, Severus?"

I think for a second, of my life so far. Of my childhood growing up under my father's painful thumb, of my mother's weakness, despite her considerable power. I think of always being invited to society events, but not really being accepted into that world. I think of my precarious place in the Slytherin hierarchy, and I touch the place where my arm still burns.

"What do I want? I want to have no master—no one to answer to—besides myself."

Bella laughs, harshly, and I see in her eyes something foreign, frightening, and I wonder how far along the road of Rodolphus she has followed. "Do you really think that is possible?"

"I will make it possible." I know, in this moment, as I say those words, that the rest of my life will be devoted to that cause. My face relaxes, and I join in Bella's laughter. My fingers carefully clasp the wand in my pocket.

This will be my life.

**A/N: Ta da!**


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